After a celebratory snack at the top of Confusion Pass (it always seems like we are eating at the top of passes), it was time for us to continue our journey - in this case, a long descent into Black Cap Wilderness.
The descent here was all on snow and ice-scrubbed granite, with none of the greenery that had both lightened our way and softened the steps going down the Hell for Sure Pass. Step, step, start to slip until one gets one's walking poles under one, step again. Progress was, for me, slow again as I carefully picked my way down the mountainside.
We took a break about halfway at the Alpine Lake above (no record of what the name is). The lake was serene, but barren like Martha Lake, deprived of any greenery surrounding it. I do not think that many people understand just how essentially barren the high Alpine country can be.
As we passed the lip of the lake, the outflow became a cascading stream down the granite face as we continued to descend. Trees - Pine trees - began to appear, solitary survivors in a rock landscape.
Each of us came to the last lip, and suddenly we were at the top of Rainbow Lake.
One comes to appreciate the appearance of Alpine meadows as one hikes the High country of the Sierra Nevadas more and more. Coming down, they come to represent the equivalent of a desert oasis - not in this case of water, but of vegetation and greenery and life.
By the time we arrived at camp, the rain had appeared and gone, so camp sites were staked out not only with the general eye to the levelness of the site, but to the likelihood of being flooded in a downpour. Our planning was put to the test when it rained, just after we had started a fire and were making dinner. We huddled under trees while The Brit masterfully managed to keep the fire going through the rain and into dinner - at which point we put all the wood we could find on it. A fire after a long day of hiking and rain is not to be underestimated.
For the first time in three days, I was able to eat dinner and interact with the group. Even for myself as general introvert, the comradery and interplay was welcome, after two days spent effectively trying to recover.
And the sunset...well, you can see for yourself.
For me, I have always treasured my time above tree line, a place I have only spent a few precious weeks in throughout the five decades of my life.
ReplyDeleteEd, most people (myself included) spend very little time above the tree line. It is a place that is in some ways utterly foreign to the rest of the world we know.
DeleteThe starkness creates a beauty all of it's own, doesn't it? It's nice to see the progression of green as you descend.
ReplyDeleteIt does, Leigh, made more unique by the fact that it is so different. In some cases you can stand in the trees looking up at a treeless mountain or (like here) look down from barren rock onto greenery and trees. It is a rather amazing perspective.
DeleteLots of well-worn rock there. Photos sure help to show that barrenness TB, words couldn't do it justice.
ReplyDeleteNylon12, the barrenness is striking. Yes, there are small plants as you move down, but especially on the passes and ridges there is nothing but rock and dirt. We are so seldom used to seeing just a sort of mono-landscape with no vegetation.
DeleteI used to read the Jack Kerouac book "The Dharma Bums" which had many hiking / camping experiences listed in it (Kerouac apparently loved to hitchhike and 'sleeping out' was a common experience). One of the trips was a trip to the high California peaks and when I see your pictures, I see what may be been the inspiration for the chapter.
ReplyDeleteGreat book - great pictures. Thank you for the later and the description of your trip.
You are welcome! I suspect that if it was about the peaks in California, it was likely just this sort of thing. They certainly are inspiring on any number of levels.
DeleteBeautiful, TB. Your (and others') talk about the tree line made me consider that the only time I've been at that altitude was on Pike's Peak. A tame assent in a tram, so its mention here should be with embarrassment. But I've never had mountain climbing ambitions, so at least I can say I've been that high a couple of times in my life. I'm also realizing that the same son who got sick in Aspen didn't seem fazed by Pike's Peak nearly a week later. PP is quite a bit higher than Aspen, but I'm guessing time spent in Aspen got him acclimated enough?
ReplyDeleteBecki, The Ravishing Mrs. TB went to Pike's Peak in August and sent back some amazing pictures. And no embarrassment here - I have never been to Pike's Peak, so you beat me there!
DeleteTime at altitude matters - so yes, I would guess that your son had acclimated.